


The Blade And The Basin

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Control, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Razors, Shaving, Straight Razors, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill Haydon and Jim Prideaux have some time together in the morning - Bill gets playful with the Jim’s razor, and Jim can’t help but love it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blade And The Basin

Dawn light is filtering in through the window, and the bathroom is lit from the rising sun, all warm oranges – his eyes hurt a little bit, on the dry side and somewhat overtired, but he has a pleasant ache in his shoulders and his thighs, and he feels _good_. It's a good morning, thus far, especially given the night before.

Bill is still asleep in bed, sprawled on his belly with his face pressed into the pillow, the sheet tangled haphazardly around his ankles and one of his arms: he looks wonderfully good laid down like that in the dark, all limbs and sweat and slow, even breathing. Jim hasn't ever enjoyed watching a man sleep like he enjoys watching Bill sleep. There's a distinct comfort with Bill, pleasant and warm even if the man himself has a penchant for being somewhat caustic, and there's a wonderful companionship in their spending time together.

Jim smiles to himself as he washes his face, soon lathering white cream onto his face. The razor is an old-fashioned one, a straight razor with a wooden handle, and Jim has always been comfortable using it, ever since he bought it. He adjusts his position as he fills the basin with a little warm water, turning his head, but then a hand closes over his, and Jim turns his head, glancing at Bill with some surprise.

Bill's still naked, not having so much as put on his boxers, but there's an expression of concentrated intent on his face that sends shivers up Jim's spine as he steps closer and grasps for the handle of the razor from Jim's hand. Jim lets him take it, staring at Bill in the mirror as Bill steps forwards, drawing the blade to the base of Jim's throat and pressing it to the flesh of Jim's neck. Jim can scarcely breathe as Bill comes forwards, his naked body against Jim's partially clothed one: Jim had only put on a vest and his flannel pyjama trousers, but with Bill looking like _that_ he barely feels like he has his own skin to protect him, let alone his clothes.

“Going to kill me, Bill?” Jim asks in a half-whisper as Bill remains leaning forwards, the blade of the razor poised at the base of Jim's throat. Bill's shorter than Jim is, but only by a few inches, so he easily reaches. Bill's reflection smirks.

“No, no, I think not. I should hate to make such a mess, darling – I'd have to clean it up.”

“That much is true, old boy,” Jim agrees breathlessly, and he has to close his eyes as Bill draws the blade up over his neck, drawing through the white foam with a familiar scrape of sharp metal against his flesh, and Jim can't draw in a breath until Bill is rinsing the blade in the basin with a soft swish and splash of water and Jim lets out a shuddering sound. He keeps his eyes open this time, as Bill does it again, drawing the blade with care over the curve of his neck and rinsing the hair and white cream in the sink. It's unspeakably erotic, having Bill shave his face for him, with a sharp blade so close to his jugular, when Bill can almost certainly feel the beat of his heart under the pressure of the razor: Bill could kill him. Easily, Bill could kill him.

For some reason that sets every fibre of Jim's being alight.

By the time Bill's finished, Jim's ready to start _quaking_ , and Bill sets the razor neatly aside on the side of the sink, pulling the plug and letting the water drain away. They settle in silence for a few moments more, staring at each other in the mirror – Bill gets off on this, Jim knows, gets off on being in control and certainly on being in control over _Jim_ , but despite himself Jim enjoys it. He oughtn't, oughtn't love his time with Bill as much as he does, but good _Lord_.

Jim turns suddenly on his heel, and Bill pulls him down by the collar of his vest, kissing him on the mouth with a distinct _dominance_ , and Jim leans right against him as Bill pulls him forwards, one hand gripping tightly at his hip. “Come back to bed.”

“Bill,” Jim protests quietly, “I've got to go, I've-” Bill's hands are sliding, together now, to cup the flesh of Jim's backside, and Jim _shivers_ – he's never been with a man like he's been with a Bill, never wanted to spend night after night with a man like he has with Bill, and God, Bill just has a pull that Jim can't _resist_. “I- do you want me, to er-” He's shy, at times, can't always vocalize the things he's sometimes _desperate_ to say, but Bill offers a feral grin that makes Jim weak at the knees.

By no means is he a young man any more, but Bill has a way of making him forget that.

“I want you to bugger me, yeah,” Bill says, affectionately, as he runs his thumb over Jim's newly sensitized, shaved cheek. “So long as you don't mind.”

“Well, I don't _mind_ ,” Jim says, trying to tease even though his voice is half-cracked for want – Bill's bloody insatiable, Jim knows, could keep him in bed all day if Jim let him (some days Jim _aches_ to let him), and it doesn't matter at all that they shagged twice last night. Bill always wants more, and it's just _intoxicating_. “You've got to be quick, mind.”

“Alright,” Bill says, and then he pauses, glancing at the razor as if thinking about bringing it into the bedroom with them: Jim feels his heart freeze for a second, skipping a beat, but then Bill pulls him forwards without reaching for the blade, and Jim feels an obscene mixture of relief and disappointment. “Think I can make you cry in half an hour?” Jim's mouth is suddenly dry: he loves it when Bill threatens him, especially when it involves making Jim _weak_. Jim's a broad-shouldered, tall man, stacked with muscle, and he's an athlete where Bill is less fit, not so strong, but he can't help but crave for Bill's taking control, taking Jim apart. Bill takes the role with such damned ease it's almost as if he's made for it.

“God,” Jim says, “I'd bloody like to see you try.” And Bill grins again, grins that feral, aggressive grin, and Jim wants to feel those teeth on his neck – and by God, he knows, he _will_.

He just hopes he can button his shirt to hide the marks this morning, once Bill's through with him.


End file.
